“Were best friends?” Janey asked curiously.
Miranda lowered her voice. “They had a falling-out. The Workout is supposed to be supersecret, you know, but Kate cannot keep anything private. She wrote a whole essay about it on Lovely, and Sara Strong was so mad she stopped talking to her. It’s very recent.
“So they’ve moved The Workout here to the penthouse. I think it’s owned by some Saudi sheik whose wife swears The Workout changed her life. I’m so happy to see you here.” Miranda pushed the button for P and the door buzzed open almost instantly. She seemed to forget the two women with her until the four of them were waiting for the elevator. Janey estimated that they were about ten years Miranda’s junior.
“I’m the worst. Sorry. Janey Sweet, these are my friends from school. Our kids are in the same class at City and Country. Janey is the brains behind B wedding dresses. She runs the company.” Miranda unhelpfully did not provide the women’s names.
“Really?” Mommy number one, a pale woman with heavy-lidded eyes and a tiny rosebud of a mouth, was suddenly interested in her. “I wore a B gown for my wedding last year.”
“Which one?” Janey gave her a polite smile.
“It was the Eliza in champagne.”
There was one season where Beau went through a Hamilton phase, listening to the musical’s original cast recording on repeat in their office and naming all of their styles things like the Eliza, the Angelica, the Schuyler, and the Miranda, named after Lin-Manuel. Of course. With her own minor in American history, Janey got a real kick out of Beau as a burgeoning history buff obsessed with the country’s founding fathers, if only for a fleeting moment.
“Beautiful dress. Wonderful choice. Where did you get married?” Janey had perfected the art of feigning interest in the intricate details of other people’s weddings.
“Here in the city. At the Public Library.”
“The perfect venue.” It was a ridiculously expensive venue. Janey knew that it cost a mere $100,000 just to rent the space before paying for food or service.
“I kept the dress for my daughter. I can’t wait to tell her I met the designer!”
“Oh, I’m not the designer,” Janey said humbly. “I just run the business side of things.”
This was clearly less interesting to Mommy number one, who changed the subject once the elevator doors opened.
“Do you come to The Workout often? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“Not as often as I’d like,” she replied.
“I know what you mean.” She nodded in agreement. “I just need more hours. Right now I only get to train about three hours every day.”
“Training? How cool. Are you doing the New York City Triathlon? That’s coming up, right? God you’re brave. There’s not enough money in the world to get me to jump in the Hudson.”
Mommy number two fixed Janey with a cool stare, her upturned nose making the slightest twitch. “We aren’t doing a race. It’s just our daily fitness regimen.”
“You work out three hours a day for fun?” Janey asked as they approached the top floor. As Mommy number two’s coat fell open, Janey could see that working out twice a day was probably nonnegotiable if she wanted to contain her body in her skintight soft grey ballerina-style leotard finished off with grey cashmere leg warmers.
Mommy number one grew serious. “Oh, there’s nothing fun about it.” She looked at Janey’s wrist. “Nice. I have one just like it.” The woman held up her own delicate arm to display her own rubber bracelet. “My husband loves it.”
“Oh, does he have one too?” Janey asked out of politeness. This might have been the slowest elevator ride of her life.
The woman shook her head. “No. But if I don’t reach twenty-five thousand steps a day I have sex with him to make up for the missing calories.”
Before Janey could respond the elevator doors finally opened into a grand space. The penthouse apartment took up the entire fifty-fourth floor, with windows on all sides providing sweeping 360-degree views of both rivers, five bridges, the Statue of Liberty to the south, and Central Park to the north.
Janey craned her neck, looking for Stella, but saw only a sea of grey. Not a single person was wearing a speck of color in this room. Not even the odd white.
Miranda and the mommies took off their coats to reveal three near-matching light grey workout outfits.
Thankful she hadn’t worn her purple spandex, Janey still felt out of place in her black Lulu once she removed her own camel hair overcoat. Wasn’t matching outfits the step before drinking the Kool-Aid?
Janey could feel even more color rise into her cheeks as Stella strode gracefully across the room to greet her with a warm hug. She too was clad in grey tones—leggings and a long flowy top that reached to midthigh. On her hands were fingerless grey cashmere gloves that reached to her elbows.
“You made it. I’m so glad.” Stella lowered her voice. “I feel terrible. I forgot to tell you about the grey. I think it’s a bit silly myself. Sara Strong wants everyone in the class to wear grey. She says it’s this great equalizer in addition to being color therapy. I prefer a hint of pink myself, but what are you gonna do? Let’s grab a tea. Everyone starts the class with Sara’s very special tea. There’s nothing like it. I keep trying to get Sara to give me the secret, but she is completely mum about it.”
In the corner of the room stood a beautiful hand-carved oak table on which burned a couple of huge black candles next to a monstrous iron cauldron and stacks of copper cups.
Stella expertly dipped a ladle into the black pot and poured the tawny liquid into a cup for Janey. The smell was delicately intoxicating, and the warmth radiated from her hands into the rest of her body.
“Wow. This is good.”
“I know, right? Stella turned to Janey. “I want to introduce you to Sara, but we’ll have to do it after class. We only have a minute or two now. It starts promptly at six. The door is already locked. No exceptions.”
The penthouse held about twenty-five women—all of them already incredibly fit and already standing in five rows of five with an arm’s length between one another.
Janey recognized quite a few of B’s former couture wedding clients, all of them looking much skinnier than they had been on their actual wedding days. Other members of The Workout were actresses, hipster socialites, yummy mummies, and models.
The room grew silent as the clock struck six. A door slammed near the elevator and a tiny woman with dark brown hair extensions reaching below her tailbone strode to the front of the room. She let loose a primal scream so loud the windows rattled.
The rest of the room followed suit. It was clear that Janey was the only newbie here. There was no introduction necessary.
This was Sara Strong.